The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 262

Chapter 262

Third Person’s POV

Finished

Georgia leaned in close, her voice a low, desperate hiss. “You’ve spent years setting the stage for this. Are you really ready to go back to being a nobody? Just another stinking, nameless rogue?”

Samantha felt like a pack of wolves was tearing through her brain. The pressure was suffocating.

She slumped over the steering wheel, taking a long minute to catch her breath.

There was no way she was letting go.

The rotting memories of the slums came flooding back–how her mother would wait until after dark to scavenge for bruised, moldy fruit at the market just to save two dollars.

How they’d spend all night carving away the decay just to find a single bite of good fruit.

Growing up, she and her brother had never even seen a whole apple.

Then there was the academy–how those high–society she–wolves had called her a “thieving little peasant” just because she’d “borrowed” a pair of dance shoes.

That nightmare of bullying only ended once she learned how to use her beauty as a mask.

From that day on, she’d made a blood oath: she would climb to the top, no matter whose back she had to step on, until she lived in the most elite territory of them all.

Cassian was her ladder. And she wasn’t letting go.

Samantha took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to gag, and pulled out her makeup.

She touched up her red lipstick and whispered a few quick instructions into Georgia’s ear.

Then, the two of them stepped out of the car and vanished into the crowded street.

An hour later, Trista and the guys stepped out of the restaurant, the cool autumn breeze cutting through the heavy smell of food.

Isaiah, always the one looking for trouble, pointed toward the sidewalk. “Hey, look at the crowd. Something’s going down.”

Fred instinctively grabbed Trista’s arm, shooting a provocative look at Cassian. “Well, Cassian? Should we go see the show?”

As they got closer, they saw Georgia sprawled out on the sidewalk.

Samantha was on her knees beside her, radiating “desperate” pheromones that smelled like bitter, burnt-

sugar.

The second she saw Cassian, her voice turned into a high–pitched shriek. “Cassian! She’s not breathing! For God’s sake, help us!”

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The surrounding wolves sensed the chaos and started to close in.

Cassian’s face went pale. He grabbed Trista’s wrist with the crushing authority of a pack leader and dragged her toward the scene.

“You’re a lead healer,” Cassian barked, his voice sounding like an order. “Do your job. Check her.”

Trista ripped her hand out of his grip, her eyes turning to ice.

She looked down at the older woman, her sensitive ears picking up a pulse that was a little fast, sure, but perfectly steady.

She noticed the tiny, rhythmic flutter of Georgia’s eyelashes and felt a surge of pure disgust.

“She’s fine,” Trista said, her voice flat. “It’s just a bad performance.”

Samantha sat back on her heels, tears ruining her heavy makeup. “Trista! You took a sacred oath to heal! My mother is unconscious, and you’re going to stand there and mock a dying woman just to get at me?”

The crowd started to murmur.

Cassian stepped forward, his Alpha aura flaring with disapproval. “Trista, this isn’t the time for your personal vendettas. Have a little decency.”

Trista looked into his dark eyes. She felt nothing.

“Cassian, after years in medicine, I can tell you exactly what’s wrong with them,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If you just pick Samantha up and carry her mother back to your apartment, I guarantee she’ll be back on her feet and cooking you dinner in ten minutes.”

The two of them locked eyes, the air between them freezing over.

Cassian’s face was a mask of dark fury–the look of a man who’d just had his dirty laundry aired in public.

Samantha crawled toward Trista, grabbing the hem of her expensive coat and sobbing. “Please! I don’t know what to do! The ambulance isn’t here yet—at least check her airway!”

Trista looked at her coat, now wrinkled and stained by Samantha’s hands, and felt a wave of physical

nausea.

She jerked her coat away, a sharp, clean movement that sent Samantha’s hand flying.

“Ah-!”

Samantha cried out as she tumbled to the ground, looking small and fragile.

Cassian instinctively rushed to her side, his brow furrowed with worry. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay…” Samantha sniffled, clutching his sleeve as she looked at the crowd. “But Trista is a professional. Even if she hates me for taking your attention… she shouldn’t gamble with one’s life.”

Cassian let go of Samantha and stood up to face Trista. Every word he spoke was laced with a cold,

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Chapter 262

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disappointed rage. “Trista, I’m disgusted. Where is your professional ethics? Has your jealousy completely stripped you of your humanity?”

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